Hands up if you have a "no phones at the table" policy
We do. We did. We don't now.
Will this be the paranoid phase for the next little bit? Will we be double checking our phones to make sure the ringers are on? Constantly checking the battery power? Hearing phantom rings?
Today we met with our wonderful Transplant coordinator at Toronto General, met with one of the thoracic surgeons and signed all the paperwork and officially had Keith put on the transplant list for a bilateral (double) lung transplant. We found out that apparently, Keith's current lungs are too big for his body...that one weirded us both out.
The call could come in a day, a month, a year. It could come in the middle of rush hour, or 2 in the morning. It could be a false alarm, it will likely be a false alarm, or very, very real.
I asked Keith how he feels right now. First word - relieved. Second word - um. Third word reiterates the first. He is relieved, he is happy that the team sees him as sick as he is. It's no longer a question of "is he sick enough", but can he stay healthy enough for long enough to get new lungs.
There will be physio three times a week, regular blood testing, Pulmonary Function Tests, Antibody tests, group information and therapy sessions, and clinic visits with the respirologists, and evening seminars. Amidst all of this, the phone will ring. The phone will ring, and it won't matter if the phone is at the dinner table, it won't matter what time it is, or where we are. It will ring.
When it does, Keith will be ready. I will be ready. His children, friends, and extended family will be ready.
We are armed...and ready. Bring it.